extravagances of the one maid. The man eager only to push on, to
more money, more responsibility, wider fields, to make to-day's
extravagance to-morrow's reasonable expenditure.

Isabelle picked up the fan again, and gave her brilliant
presentment in the mirror a complacent glance.

"Is Mr. Pope's apartment attractive?" Harriet, who knew where her
thoughts were, asked idly. The older woman heard her perfectly,
but she affected indifference.

"Is--I didn't hear you. Oh--Mr. Pope's apartment. My dear, it is
perfection--absolutely. I have never seen anything so beautiful,
and so beautifully managed. And all by that boy. He has two
coloured women and the man--just a perfect menage. And they adore
him. Absolutely!" She mused happily, her lips twitching with some
amusing memory. Then she became businesslike. "Harriet, do you go
to the city this week?"

"Nina and the girls are to see Ruth St. Denis on Friday," Harriet
said. "I thought Madame Carter would take them, but now she says
no. But if Nina stays with her grandmother overnight, I thought I
would like to see my sister; she hasn't been very well. That can
wait, of course. Miss Jay's tea-party is to-morrow; that's
Thursday--"

"And that reminds me that Louise Jay telephoned to-day, and asked
me if you would take charge of the tea table," Isabelle said, with
a shrewd glance.